It has also been the source of consolation since, affording pleasure to the simple beings with whom my lot was cast, and
beguiling my own thoughts, for many hours, from the painful contemplation of my fate.

Their constant conversation and manner towards me—their foresight in suggesting the idea of free papers, and a hundred other little acts, unnecessary to be repeated— all indicated that they were friends indeed, sincerely
solicitous for my welfare.

The paddle, as it is termed in slave-beating
parlance, or at least the one with which I first became acquainted, and of which I now speak, was a piece of hard-wood board, eighteen or twenty inches long, moulded to the shape of an old-fashioned pudding stick, or ordinary oar.

So we passed, hand-cuffed and in silence, through the streets of Washington through the Capital of a nation, whose theory of government, we are told, rests on the foundation of man's
inalienable right to life, LIBERTY, and the pursuit of happiness!

The thought of Randall and little Emmy sinking down among the monsters of the deep, is a more pleasant contemplation than to think of them as they are now, perhaps, dragging out lives of
unrequited toil.

On leaving the New-Orleans slave pen, Harry and I followed our new master through the streets, while Eliza, crying and turning back, was forced along by Freeman and his
minions, until we found ourselves on board the steamboat Rodolph, then lying at the levee.

In many northern minds, perhaps, the idea of a man holding his brother man in
servitude, and the traffic in human flesh, may seem altogether incompatible with their conceptions of a moral or religious life.

At the first note, if indeed there was more than one note in the whole tune, they circled around, trotting after each other, and giving utterance to a
guttural, sing-song noise, equally as nondescript as the music of the fiddle.